The Great Cat Consulting Detective
by inkinmyheartandonthepage
Summary: AU- Lestrade could do nothing about the stray black cat that turned up at his crime scenes and at the Yard- named Sherlock- but he wasn't prepared for another to show up. Rated T for safety.


**Hello everyone! I know I have a few other stories going on at the moment but Sherlock and John wouldn't leave me alone and I just had to write something for them! **

**This is all me so I am so sorry for any mistakes that are in here. captain-ally has been busy. **

**To those who follow my Glee stories (The Lake House- there will be a chapter coming soon- and Secrets in Ohio- I promise I will be getting to those prompts people sent in but I'll be gone for a week and won't be able to do any writing.)**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

**Summary: **_AU- _Lestrade could do nothing about the stray black cat that turned up at his crime scenes and at the Yard- named Sherlock- but he wasn't prepared for another to show up.

* * *

**The Great Cat Consulting Detective **

A sleek, thin, black cat padded across the floor, heading straight for the dead body that was lying stiff as a board with no signs of obvious trauma.

Greg Lestrade sighed heavily as the cat came to a stop just before the body and peered at it intently. Lestrade wished he could say that this was the first time a cat had come to his crime scene but it wasn't. For the past five years this had been a common occurrence and Lestrade- no matter how much he tried- could not get the damn cat to leave.

Everyone hated the cat. He (Anderson had checked which resulted in him nearly losing an eye) was arrogant, rude and stared at them all with a look that said _could-you-be-any-dumber. _They only reason Lestrade had stopped chasing him out of his crime scenes was because he was _smart_. The cat had an uncanny ability to find evidence that his team had otherwise missed.

At first he thought he had been a fluke. After the fifth time he realised that there was something about this cat. Since Lestrade was desperate he allowed the cat to roam his crime scene and do whatever he did. Since the cat kept returning to the crime scenes- and how he knew where they were Lestrade had no idea- Lestrade decided that the cat needed a name.

That's how he became known as Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, he's back," Anderson sneered, stepping into the crime scene. "You're still letting him contaminate my crime scene."

Sherlock looked up as Anderson finished speaking and gave a bored look. He swished his tail once and turned back to the dead woman. His body was tense, ear pricked to attention as he scanned the area.

"Could you find a cause of death?" Lestrade asked.

Anderson sneer deepened. "And you think that _cat _can?"

Sherlock hissed, eyes narrowed at Anderson with a look that clearly said _don't-speak-you-lower-the-IQ-of-the-whole-street. _Sherlock sat down, swished his tail once and stared at Lestrade.

"Why is he looking at you?" Anderson asked, looking uncomfortable at Sherlock unwavering gaze.

"I think he found something," Lestrade said and made his way over to the black cat.

This was one of Sherlock's ways of telling them he founds something (and the more preferable way as the other way involved his razor sharp claws).

Lestrade crouched down and Sherlock turned back to the body, purring loudly. Lestrade looked carefully and could see a bruise on the victim's neck. He could also just make out a small pin prick.

"Anderson," Lestrade called. "Take a look at this."

Anderson huffed and made his way over, crouching down. He peered at the bruise and growled under his breath. "It's a pressure point that could have paralysed her and she could have been injected with something."

"This is why Sherlock is allowed here," Lestrade said. He looked up but Sherlock was gone. Lestrade sighed but stood up again. "Let's finish up here."

* * *

The next time Lestrade saw Sherlock it was at St Bart's. There had been another murder and Lestrade was waiting for molly to give him a update with the autopsy. Somehow- Lestrade wasn't sure how- Sherlock came slinking into the morgue.

And he wasn't alone.

Trailing along behind him, gaze flickering all around the room, was a sandy blonde cat. Lestrade noticed immediately that his fur was matted and scared on his shoulder- a fairly fresh scar visible. Sherlock leapt up on to the bench, sitting near the head of the body.

The blonde cat sat penitently on the floor, tail swishing back and forth. Sherlock looked down at the blonde cat and meowed. He got a small meow in response but he stayed seated. Sherlock stared at him for a moment before turning back to the body.

"Who is that?" Molly asked, peering at the blonde cat curiously.

"No idea," Lestrade shrugged. "Maybe Sherlock finally made a friend." He cleared his throat when he found Sherlock glaring at him.

Sherlock looked at the body with a bored expression and leapt off the steel table. He meowed at the blonde cat and who purred back in response. Together the two left, padding alongside one another and left.

"That was weird," Lestrade murmured as he and Molly watched them leave. "Have you got anything?"

"Oh, yes," Molly said, picking up her clipboard.

* * *

Lestrade knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street and waited patiently for Mrs Hudson to answer. He had first met the landlady in a domestic abuse case and had helped ensure that her husband got the noose. He had kept in contact with the elderly woman, making sure that she was okay. She often called him around when she had little chores around the apartment.

The door opened, revealing the lovely Mrs Hudson. "Oh Lestrade, thank you for coming." She ushered him in, shutting the door behind her.

"What can I help you with?" Lestrade asked.

"I think," Mrs Hudson said. "Well, actually I'm sure that my new tenants are running a meth lab."

Lestrade blinked. "What?"

"Yes," Mrs Hudson said, nodding. "Just little things that are giving them away. That and the smell."

"I'll take a look," Lestrade said.

"Be careful of Sherlock and John," Mrs Hudson said. "They've been snooping around up there."

Lestrade was aware that Sherlock came back to 221 Baker street to reside. He had seen him around when he did some odd chores for Mrs Hudson.

"Whose John?" Lestrade asked as he began to climb the stairs.

"Oh, Sherlock's friend. The little blonde cat," Mrs Hudson smiled. "They make such a cute pair."

Lestrade nodded distractedly as he heard movement in the apartment above. "Stay here Mrs Hudson."

She teetered on the staircase and watched Lestrade climb the stairs and out of side.

Pacing up and down in front of the door was Sherlock, his ears pinned back and his hackles raised. John was watching him pace, eyes tracking his every move. John looked up when Lestrade approached while Sherlock shot up an unimpressed glare. He hissed and stopped his pacing, scratching at the door.

Lestrade frowned at Sherlock but knocked on the door. He listened to the hushed voices and the sound of someone hastily putting things away.

"Who is it?" a rough voice called from inside.

"Detective Lestrade."

"Shit," the man hissed.

Lestrade kicked down the door, drawing his gun and strode inside, aiming his gun at the nearest man. Sherlock and John streaked inside, hissing and hackles raised. The man- who looked oiler than a chip in a fry pan- held his hands up in the air in defence.

The second man who lived there- who looked just as oily- was trying to shove away their product was looking at the spitting and hissing Sherlock with disgust.

"What the fuck is this?" he spat and kicked Sherlock.

John, seeing this, launched at the man, clawing up his legs and scratched his across the face repeatedly, spitting and hissing.

Lestrade hurriedly handcuffed the first man before commanding John to stop. The blonde cat stopped and leapt from his face and immediately went and stood protectively in front of Sherlock who was still winded, lying on the ground.

With his second pair of handcuffs he subdued the second man and called for backup. When Sally Donavan came crashing through the door John was gently licking Sherlock's stomach where he had been kicked and the black cat was purring quietly.

Sally rose an eyebrow when she Sherlock and threw a questioning look to Lestrade. "Who's the blonde?"

"That's John," Lestrade said, smirking as Sally shot an astonished look back at the two male cats.

"Another freak?" she asked.

John glared at Sally and hissed at her, moving his body so he shielded Sherlock from view.

"You may not want to offend Sherlock in front of him," Lestrade warned.

Sally moved to one of the meth dealers and glanced at his face. "What happened to him?"

"He kicked Sherlock," Lestrade said, heaving the other meth dealer to his feet. "John didn't take to well to that."

A low meow emitted from John as he continued to glare at Sally. Unnerved- Sally hauled her criminal out of the building, Lestrade following. As they were loaded into the back of the car, Lestrade went and spoke to Mrs Hudson. When he peered into her apartment she was fussing over the two cats. Sherlock was curled around John, the blonde resting his head on top of Sherlock's.

"Poor dear," Mrs Hudson cooed. "I'll get you both some of that tuna like."

Both purred and Sherlock closed his eyes as John licked his ear, purring gently. Lestrade decided he would call later, not wanting to disturb the two.

* * *

Lestrade paced the vet, mirroring Sherlock's pace as he too paced. Somehow John and Sherlock had managed to end up in fire fight between a gang of criminals and Scotland Yard. Lestrade and his team had managed to subdue the criminals but John had gotten grazed by a bullet.

Lestrade had rushed John- and Sherlock of course who mewled pitifully next to John on the front seat- to the vet and had been there for over an hour.

Finally, the vet came out and Sherlock streaked past him and into the operating room. The vet chuckled and gestured for Lestrade to come in. He followed the vet inside and saw that John was dozing, Sherlock curled up around him and gently licking the bandage that now covered his back leg.

"It was just a graze so he'll be fine," the vet explained. "He's going to have to take some medication to reduce the risk of infection and the bandage will need to be changed regularly."

"I'll let Mrs Hudson know," Lestrade said. "They usually stay with her."

The vet nodded and wrote out a prescription, giving it to Lestrade. "He's free to go home tonight. He'll be a little dopey from the pain killers but he'll be fine."

"Thanks," Lestrade said.

The two looked at the two cats. John was now awake and was allowing Sherlock to lick his face and purring happily. Lestrade knew that Sherlock was relieved that John was okay. They were the two smartest cats that Lestrade had ever met. He was also relieved that John was okay because he certainly didn't need a sulking Sherlock on his hands. John made Sherlock a better (certainly nicer) cat and the two seemed to be in love.

"Come on," Lestrade said, picking John up and holding him close. Sherlock leapt on to his shoulder and wiggled his way into Lestrade's cradled arms beside John. "Mrs Hudson will be worried about you."

John purred and rubbed his head against Sherlock's before closing his eyes and allowed Sherlock cosy up to him.

* * *

**Please review :) Happy reading everyone! **


End file.
